Weight Loss
by Nutmeggedya
Summary: After a mishap involving a chubby employee, Michael takes it upon himself to purge the office of obesity.  Occurs during the second season.  Oneshot.


Disclaimer: Not mine. Also, most of the facts are absolutely not factual.

Author's note: I was watching the commentary for "Performance Review" a while ago, and I learned some interesting stuff. Apparently, "Performance Review" was originally going to be an episode about weight loss. The sub-story was going to be about Pam, who wants a new desk chair, and, armed with a catalogue, bugs Michael to buy her one. So, without further ado, I give you the weight loss episode:

**Weight Loss**

At precisely 9:00am – according to his calculator watch, at least – Dwight K. Schrute sweeps into the office. Stiffly, he removes his coat, hangs it from the stand near reception, and nods curtly to Pam. The receptionist, visibly struggling to contain her glee, nods back.

Dwight turns.

Dwight gasps.

Dwight screams:

"JIM!"

"Dwight," Jim says indifferently as he fills out sales reports.

"Where's my desk!?"

"Right in front of you."

The desk is, in fact, right in front of him – it just doesn't look like a desk anymore. An explosion of green has transformed the salesman's workspace into what resembles a poorly pruned hedge. Vines drip over the edge of the desk and onto the floor. The telephone rings from within a bouquet of flowers. The boughs of a very large, leafy potted tree cast a shadow over Dwight's desk. A single, tall sunflower protrudes from Dwight's pencil cup.

Jim swivels in his chair in order to shoot the camera a classic smirk while Dwight, furious, marches to his desk. Dwight pulls out his chair angrily, revealing a bonsai tree decked in a huge red bow: the icing on the cake.

"Jim," he says with clenched teeth, "why is there a bow on this tree?"

Jim raises an eyebrow at his coworker. "Because it's a present."

"Transforming my desk into some kind of _jungle_ is your idea of a _gift_!?" Pam stifles a giggle in the back round while Dwight struggles to open his drawers. He rages, "I can't even reach my throwing stars, Jim! _What if ninjas attack the office_!?"

Jim ignores Dwight's ridiculous question. He finishes filling out the file he is working on at his tidy, flora-less desk. After a short pause, he looks up and taps the corner of his mouth with his pen before brandishing it at Dwight.

"By the way," he says seriously, jiggling the pen. "Happy Arbor Day."

Insert Theme Song HERE

By midmorning, Dwight's desk is foliage-free. His demeanor, however, is still sullen. He taps the keys on his keyboard harder than necessary in order to vent. Every few words he stops to stare down Jim, who is too deeply engrossed in a game of spider solitaire to notice.

The camera pans and focuses on the accountants. Kevin and Oscar flick a paper football at each other. Every so often, Angela looks up from her books to glare at them.

Across the way, Meredith gulps the mysterious contents of her paper cup. Creed takes a siesta from recording his thoughts on his "website" to munch some of the beans from his drawer. The camera rests for a second on Phyllis, who is painting her nails, before a screech from reception captures its attention.

Startled, the employees look around. Pam, who was making sticky note origami at her desk moments ago, is no where to be seen. Jim leaps to his feet, eyebrows furrowed in concern, and rushes behind the reception desk. Splayed on her back is Pam, seething and disheveled, but ultimately unscathed.

Realizing that Pam is unhurt, Jim chuckles and seizes the opportunity to make a very bad joke. "Who're you _falling _for, Beesly?" he smirks. "If it's Michael, I'll have to kill you."

Pam glares at him from the gray carpet. "Ha ha," she says sarcastically. "Funny."

Still grinning, he offers Pam his hand, and she takes it. He pulls her to her feet. Gingerly, she brushes off her backside. She glances behind herself and grumbles.

"My chair is broken! Look!"

The swivel-y part of the chair, where Pam's butt was moments ago, is still sitting in front of the computer. The part of the chair that was supporting her back, however, is flat on the carpet.

"Wow. That is _definitely_ broken," Jim admits.

Hearing Jim's proclamation, Michael steps out of his office and trots over to reception. "What happened?" he wonders.

"Pam's chair broke," Jim says.

"It's in two pieces!" Pam fumes. "The back is completely severed from the bottom!"

Michael raises his eyebrows and snorts.

"It's not funny!" Pam says. "I need a new chair!"

By this point, there is a crowd around reception. Everyone ogles the ruined chair. Upon closer inspection, the employees notice masking tape around the stem of the chair.

"It was already broken!" Phyllis exclaims, indicating the tape that just wasn't quite sticky enough. "Someone broke the chair and then tried to fix it! I wonder what happened…."

"Toby!" Michael snaps, and Toby jolts out of a reverie. "Why the hell did you break Pam's chair? What's _wrong_ with you?!"

"Uh, it wasn't me, Michael," Toby says quietly. "I don't know how the chair snapped."

Kevin leans over to Oscar. "I think I know," he whispers guiltily.

"What did you do?" Oscar says, a little too loudly. His accusatory tone catches Michael's attention.

"Kevin! You broke Pam's chair?" the boss exclaims.

Kevin blushes. "It was an accident."

"What happened?" Pam says.

He looks around nervously. "I…uh…needed something to stand on, so I could reach…the ceiling," Kevin explains.

"Why'd you need to reach the ceiling?" Jim asks, smiling good-natured, amused kind of way.

Kevin gulps. "Long story."

Cut to Break Room; Talking Head

Kevin: I needed a place to hide my M&Ms. (_leans in; whispers conspiratorially_) Oscar keeps eating them, and let's face it – that guy has a heart attack coming at him if he doesn't lay off the candy. (_straightens_) Anyway, I sort of…slipped last night when I was hiding them, and seeing as I'm not very…well, I'm…I'm a big guy…I sort of…snapped it. I tried to fix it, but…. (_shrugs_)

Cut to Reception

"You _snapped_ Pam's _chair_?" Michael snorts. "I thought office chairs were sturdier than that."

"They _are _sturdier than that! Fantastic, quality furniture!" pipes up Dwight. "Dunder-Mifflin provides nothing less than the best for its employees. The chair must have been misused by Pam to snap so easily."

"I didn't do anything to it!" Pam protests.

"It was probably just…too much strain…that did it in the end," Oscar says delicately.

Michael snorts. "It wasn't just 'strain!' You think a guy Kevin's size just puts _strain_ on a piece of furniture? That's full on _pressure_! _Under pressure_," he sings, then beams around expectantly. After a full ten seconds of silence without receiving any response, Michael clarifies, "Under Pressure? Queen?"

"It's not funny, Michael," says Phyllis.

"Yeah," agrees Oscar, "Kevin's not that big."

Michael snorts. "Not big? Well, if something the size of a _killer whale_ isn't big, then I guess you're right…." Michael chuckles at his own joke. A little too late, he notices Kevin's fallen face, Jim's frown, and Pam's furrowed eyebrows. Phyllis and Oscar pat Kevin's arms comfortingly while Michael backtracks.

"Kevin, I didn't mean to…I wasn't really saying…OSCAR!"

Oscar jumps. "Yes, Michael?"

"Insulting Kevin about his weight is inappropriate behavior!"

"But I didn't say anything negative about Kevin's weight!" Oscar cries indignantly.

"You said that Kevin is big!" Michael retorts.

Dwight intercedes. "Actually," he says matter-of-factly, "Oscar said that Kevin is not big, Michael. But_ you_ said that –"

"Shhhhut…it, Dwight!" Michael hisses. "I didn't say anything wrong. You were talking about…quality, and inferring that Kevin is…well, I mean…negative comments about obesity, Dwight, and Oscar, that's just wrong…you need to…I need to…." He trails off, looking confused and embarrassed. Finally, he barks:

"Everybody! Conference room! Twenty minutes!" While his employees groan, he sidles back into his office and slams the door.

Cut to Michael's Office

Pam raps gently on the door to Michael's office.

"Come in."

She opens the door and steps partway into the office. "Are you busy?" she asks Michael, who's playing with his train whistle with his feet propped on his desk.

Michael exhales noisily. "Very busy, but if this is important…."

"Oh, it is."

He gestures her inside. Pam marches over to Michael's desk with purpose and drops a thick catalogue onto it. Michael starts and fumbles his whistle at the surprisingly loud _thwap_ of paper smacking wood.

Michael grabs the catalogue and leafs through it. "This is full of chairs," he comments.

Pam nods and toys with her necklace. "Yeah, since mine broke, and it's company property and all and it wasn't even _my _fault that it happened, I thought that I should get a new chair."

"Yeah, I agree, it wasn't your fau –" Michael breaks off suddenly, and a frown creases his forehead. He flips to the front of the catalogue once more and scrutinizes the cover. He stares Pam down for a couple of seconds with a fiery, bubbling anger in his eyes.

Slowly, Michael says, "Actually, it _was_ your fault."

Pam frowns. "How?"

Michael improvises, "Well, if you hadn't been out of your chair, talking to Jim or wasting time some other way, Kevin wouldn't have had the opportunity to climb on it in the first place."

"Kevin climbed on my chair after work hours!" Pam cries indignantly.

"Well, work late for once in your life and that won't happen again." He tosses the catalogue aside and starts clicking his mouse, eyes trained on the computer screen. "Leave me alone," he tells Pam. "It's not my problem, and I'm obviously drowning in work."

Pam snatches up the catalogue and storms out of the room.

Michael's Office; Talking Head

Michael: Pam wants a new chair. That's not going to happen. That catalogue she gave me? It was for Staples. STAPLES!! Dunder-Mifflin's biggest competitor! Like I would undermine this company by benefiting our nemesis. (_rolls eyes) _And besides, all the chairs in that catalogue were, like, $70! (_scoffs_) I'm not a millionaire here, people.

Cut to the Conference Room

Michael holds the door open for Pam, the last one into the conference room. He closes the door as Pam settles into a seat next to Jim. Michael pulls a seat to the front of the room, spins it, and sits on it backwards. He crosses his elbows across the back of the chair and rests his chin on his hands. Pensively, he glances around at his employees. Finally, he draws breath.

"What is…obesity?" Michael asks rhetorically. Proceeding to answer his own question, he says, "Some might claim that obesity is fatness."

"Fatness?" says Pam.

"Like, with a 'ph' at the beginning?" Jim asks, flashing Pam a quick, goofy smile.

"No, Jim," Michael says seriously, "not with a 'ph.' That would imply that obesity is cool, when it is, in fact, not. Millions of Americans suffer from obesity every year. Obesity is like a plague in this nation. There are, in fact, more obese people in the United States than there are hamsters."

"Hamsters?" Kelly giggles.

"Yes," says Michael gravely, "hamsters. Which is saying something, because hamsters have, like, a million babies every day."

Stanley drawls, "Where are you getting these facts?"

Michael grumbles something incoherent, coughs, and then plows on. "So many people are overweight, but it isn't their fault. Do you know whose fault it is?"

"McDonalds' fault?" Dwight supplies. "Fact: every single item on the menu at McDonalds has been deep fried, the grease from which causes undeniable fatness in fast food customers."

"Everything on the menu?" Phyllis repeats.

Dwight nods gravely.

"What about the salads?" says Jim.

"And the ice cream?" wonders Pam.

They smile at each other triumphantly while Dwight frowns, looking puzzled.

Michael sighs. "No, people, it's not McDonalds' fault." A pregnant pause reigns for a few seconds, then: "It's _Hershey_'s fault, because they make M&Ms, which, as we know, are the driving force behind the bulk of some people in this office!"

Glancing around furtively to ensure nobody notices, Kevin stuffs a handful of colorful candies that were previously en route to his mouth into his pocket and out of sight.

"Hershey's chocolate has turned us in monsters!" Michael cries. "All of us, not just Phyllis, Stanley, and Kevin." The three aforementioned employees proceed to take offense. Michael continues, "All of us – except me, of course – are out of shape. I'm obviously in physical condition of my life. But the rest of you? Everyone needs to lose weight. Psh, talk about flab."

"I weigh 90 pounds," Angela announces tersely.

"You have flab on the inside," Michael claims.

"I'm in pristine condition!" Dwight cries. "I have my purple belt!"

"Yeah, and can it even fit around your waist?" Michael jeers. "Yeah, it doesn't, on account of you're so chunky. That's what I thought."

Dwight's face falls.

"So, I have the solution to the unhealthy plague that is sweeping the office," Michael says proudly. "You all give your candy and stuff to me, because I'm in shape and can handle it all, and you guys just stick to carrot sticks and stuff. You know, to drop a few pounds. So, I want all junk food on my desk by one-thirty! Clean out the fridge and all the cupboards. Snap to!"

Michael exits, leaving his employees in the conference room in a perplexed silence.

"Toby," Ryan finally pipes up. "Is he allowed to do this?"

Toby sighs. "There's nothing that says he can't steal all our food. But I still hope it makes him sick."

Cut to Break Room; Talking Head

Jim: (_tilts head the side, and wrinkles his chin in a toothless half-smile_) So, Michael calls a conference after _he_ broaches the subject of obesity in order to rob us all of our junk food. Good thing I stole Dwight's Butterfinger this morning. (_whips candy bar out of his pocket and grins_)

Cut to Kitchen

Toby, Kevin, and Oscar remove the contents of the refrigerator and stow them in paper shopping bags. Kevin moans softly as Toby tosses a tube of nacho cheese into the nearest bag. "There goes my lunch," Kevin mutters weakly as he musters up the courage to part with a quart of ice cream.

Oscar sees him fingering the frosted container. Oscar pats him on the back sympathetically.

"Chocolate Fudge Brownie," Kevin whispers sadly.

"It's time to let go, Kev," Toby sighs. "Time to let go."

Conference Room; Talking Head

Angela: I can not believe that Michael is going to take everybody else's food. Sinner. There is no doubt in my mind that Michael is going to hell if he doesn't shape up soon. (_sighs_) That's one more person in this office who I'll have to pray for tonight….

Conference Room; Talking Head

Dwight: Yes, I've eaten the entire contents of a refrigerator before. The power went out, and everything in the refrigerator got warm. I had to do something before everything went bad.

Cut to Main Office

"Do you want _my_ chair?" Jim offers to Pam, who is standing behind reception. Jim pops a jelly bean into his mouth while Pam shakes her head vigorously.

"Nuh-uh," she declines. "I want my _own_ chair and I want it from Michael! It's company property, and as manager, it's his job to replace it!"

Jim grins. "A stubborn and defiant Beesly? This is new."

"Suck it," Pam snarls good-naturedly as Oscar, Kevin, and Toby burst into the main office from the kitchen. Pam and Jim turn to watch the trio wrestle with armfuls of food has deemed unhealthy. They stumble to Michael's office and knock. Michael opens the door tentatively, sees the food, and then throws it open wider so that they can unload.

"On that chair," Michael directs, "put the stuff on that chair. No, not _that_ chair, Toby, you bleeding idiot! The other one! THE OTHER ONE! Are you people blind?! Dammit, Toby, who do you think you are, Helen Keller?"

Cut to Conference Room; Talking Head

Michael: Helen Keller, like the Lincoln assassination, just became a topic available to comics. (_clears throat, puts on his best poker face_) Did you know that Helen Keller had a dollhouse in her backyard? No? Well, neither did she! (_snorts; pauses expectantly_) Get it? She didn't know that there was a dollhouse…because she was blind (_snorts_)…and deaf…wow, tough crowd.

Cut to Main Office

The door to Michael's office opens, and Toby and Oscar file out, Kevin sulking at their heels. Before Michael has a chance to shut the door, Pam skips over from reception in a flash and slips inside. Michael groans and rubs a hand over his face as Pam turns to face him.

"I want a chair," Pam states bluntly.

"Well, you're not going to get one, so…no. Just no," Michael mumbles, hand still on the door knob of his open office door.

"I don't see why not, Michael!" argues Pam. "My chair was company property! I deserve a new one, and there were several affordable ones in that catalogue!"

At mention of the catalogue, Michael's forehead creases and his lips purse. Abruptly, his eyes go wide and he points out the window. "Oh my god!" he squeals. "There's a dinosaur in the parking lot!"

"What?" Pam says, confused. As she turns toward the window, Michael uses her momentary distraction to bolt from his office in the direction of the men's room. Pam looks away from the window, realizes he's gone, and grumbles.

Cut to Conference Room; Talking Head

Pam: A dinosaur…. (_scoffs, shaking her head_) I can't believe I looked. But this is so not over yet! I will get my chair!

Cut to Michael's Office

"Pass the Phish Food," Michael demands. Dwight rummages through one of the grocery bags, produces a carton of Ben and Jerry's ice cream, and tosses it to his boss. Michael fumbles the ice cream, which rolls under his desk.

"Jeez, Dwight, throw much?" Michael grumbles as he crawls under his desk to retrieve the ice cream.

"Sorry," Dwight mutters, snatching up some Doritos before leaning against the wall behind Michael's desk. "I guess it slipped."

Michael pops the lid off and dips his finger into his treat. "Guess so," he mocks with his mouth full of chocolate-y goodness.

Dwight changes the subject. "What's Phish Food, anyway?"

Michael scoffs, "Uh, only the best kind of ice cream ever! Chocolate ice cream with caramel and marshmallow and chunks of fudginess…mmm."

"I've always thought Chunky Monkey was better. And fudginess isn't a word."

"Chunky Monkey sucks, like you. And fudginess is in the dictionary. Look it up."

Dwight wipes his cheesy fingers on his tie. "Do you have a sticky note? I need to write that down, so I remember to look it up later."

Michael rolls his eyes and sighs. He slaps Dwight's hands away, which are ferreting over the surface of Michael's messy desk in pursuit of a post-it note, and snatches the bag of chips from the salesman's clutches.

"Hey!" Dwight whines.

"I changed my mind," Michael says sourly, using a Dorito to scoop ice cream into his mouth. "I don't want you to help me save the office from obesity any more. You're being annoying."

"But…."

Michael stares him down. Dwight glances gloomily at the camera as he trudges out of the office. As the door closes behind Dwight, Michael shoots the camera a "so-whatcha-gonna-do-about-it?" look before resuming his gluttony.

Cut to the Main Office

"Psst!"

Jim swivels in his chair to face reception, sees Pam leaning over the counter toward him, and approaches. He folds his elbows on the desk top.

"What's up?"

Pam frowns. "I'm nervous. Michael's been alone in his office for two hours with all the junk food, and…I don't know…what if he gets sick or something?"

Jim shrugs. "Well, serves him right."

Pam half-smiles. "Yeah, I guess."

Right on cue, Michael sticks his head out of the doorway. A fraction of a second later, the rest of his body follows.

"Hi! Hi! What's up!? What's going on guys?" Michael chirps breathily.

Jim stares from his boss, to the camera, to Pam with wide eyes.

"Uh oh," he whispers to her. Pam nods with a slack jaw as Michael spots Ryan.

"Ryaaaaaaaaaan!" Michael crows, and Ryan flinches. "Ryaaaaaaaan the temp, making copies!" Michael chuckles, racing over to the machine. While Ryan, horrified, watches with a single raised eyebrow, Michael frantically presses every single button on the machine about twelve times apiece. Giggling, he knocks a sheaf of paper's out of the temp's hands and skips away.

"Michael, are you okay?" Phyllis wonders, genuinely concerned.

"Yup! Great! I'm great! I feel great! I feel GRRRR-ATE!" Michael dissolves into peals of laughter, managing to choke out, "Tony the Tiger!"

"There is definitely something wrong with you," Angela notes disapprovingly.

"He's even more annoying than usual," comments Stanley.

"I think," Jim pipes up, "he is on a sugar high."

"Fact: there is no such thing as a sugar high. Only drugs can make you high," Dwight announces, a hint of superiority in his voice.

Pam frowns at Dwight. "I think Michael disproves that theory," she says as Michael attempts to lasso Meredith with a chain of paper clips, giggling madly.

"Yup," Jims says to Pam. "Definitely sugar high."

"Judging from past experiences on Pretzel Day," Pam says, checking her watch, "he'll crash in about…half an hour."

Jim grins at Pam, an evil glint in his eye.

"What?" she asks. His lopsided smile is contagious, and she can't help but grin back.

"In half an hour," he says, "we are going to carry out a mission."

"A mission?" Pam repeats eagerly.

"Let's put it this way," Jim says. "In approximately twenty-nine minutes, you will no longer be standing at your desk."

Pam's smile broadens. "Excellent."

Cut to Conference Room; Talking Head

Meredith: Michael's been acting real funny for the past half hour or so. It's almost like he's drunk, even though that's impossible. (_suddenly sits up straighter; peers over the camera at the main office; mutters:_) Unless…maybe he found my…maybe he checked under the loose tile in the kitchen…oh, crap! (_hurries out of the conference room_)

Cut to the Main Office

Michael sits against the spit of wall separating the door of his office from the door of the conference room. His feet are splayed out to the sides, and one shoe twitches sporadically. With one hand he mashes marshmallows into his mouth. He uses the other hand to keep time.

"I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts!" he sings in a terrible impression of a British accent, his cheeks bulging with marshmallow. "There they are standing in a row!"

Jim turns in his chair to face Pam at reception. "Any second now!" he mouths to her, and she nods feverishly.

Michael continues, "Big ones, small ones, some as big as your head!"

"And bigger!" Dwight adds on.

Michael swallows his marshmallow wad, mumbles the next few lines of the song, and then, slowly but surely, nods off to sleep.

"NOW!" Jim mouths to Pam. Pam walks quickly and quietly into Michael's office while Jim turns to Dwight.

"Did Michael tell you?" Jim asks his coworker.

"Of course," Dwight says arrogantly. Eventually he realizes he has no idea what Jim is talking about, and he leans in and whispers, "Tell me what?"

"Oh my god," Jim says incredulously. "I can't believe he didn't tell you!"

"Tell me what?!" demands Dwight, who is positively quaking with curiosity.

"About the compact he found in the men's bathroom!" Jim exclaims.

Dwight rolls his eyes at this anti-climactic announcement.

"So he found a compact, big deal," Dwight says.

"Don't you know what this means?" Jim whispers darkly. "There was a _woman_ in the _men's_ room!"

Dwight's jaw drops. "I'm on it!" He springs to his feet and marches towards the bathroom. As soon as he disappears through the doorway leading out of the main office, Jim calls to Pam, "Coast is clear!"

Pam exits Michael's office, triumphantly wheeling his desk chair out in front of her. As she passes Jim on the way to reception, they high five.

"Ah, sweet victory," Jim sighs as Pam plops down in her new chair and grins at him.

Cut to Conference Room; Talking Head

Pam: What happens when Michael wakes up and finds his chair gone? (_shrugs_) That's not important right now. The real problem is how I'm going to get my compact back from Dwight….

Cut to the Break Room

Kevin sits alone at a table in the break room, elbows propped on the table with his head held in his hands. He stares gloomily at the gray surface. He looks up when Pam walks in.

"Hey Kev," she says.

"Hi," he says sadly.

Silently, Pam pulls a quart of ice cream from behind her back and sets it on the table. Kevin's eye widen.

"Where did you get that?"

Pam grins, but otherwise ignores the inquiry. "It's very melted, but it should taste the same."

"Thanks, Pam!" Kevin calls after the receptionist as she walks away. Beaming excitedly, Kevin pries off the lid and scrutinizes the contents of the container. He looks up at the camera approvingly.

"Mmm," he croons. "Chocolate fudge brownie…."

Cut to the Main Office

Michael, still slumped against the wall, stirs as the employees are gathering their things and donning their jackets. He rubs his eyes blearily.

"What happened?" he asks stupidly.

"The third world war," Jim says, smirking at the camera. "You missed it."

"Dammit," Michael mutters.

Cut to Michael's Office; Talking Head

Michael: (_sitting cross-legged on the floor behind his desk_) Have you seen my desk chair? No? Well, to answer your question: yes, I really think that my idea to prevent obesity was a success. All the employees look skinnier after less than one day of no junk food. Except for Kevin, who actually looks a bit more rotund than usual. (_looks thoughtful_) Do you think he looks bigger because he ate my desk chair? (_shrugs_) Who can say?

* * *

The end. So, that's the first time I've written a full episode in one shot, so pretty please with sugar let me know what you think – reviews are wicked amazing. Anyways, thanks for reading! 


End file.
